Those of Great Ambition
by Silver Sailor Ganymede
Summary: A collection of drabbles centring around the Slytherins in Harry's year. New: Theodore despises working in the library.
1. Surprise

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

**_(A.N: I'm finding it really fun to write about the Slytherins, so any future drabbles written about the Slytherins in Harry's year will be posted in this collection)._**

Those of Great Ambition  
By Silver Sailor Ganymede

I. Surprise

Slytherin house was supposed to be the home of the ambitious and cunning, but Theodore often found himself wondering whether the Sorting Hat got people completely and utterly wrong sometimes. Case in point – Blaise Zabini, who had just dragged him down to the kitchens at two in the morning because he wanted fruit, and who was now sitting at the Slytherin table in the kitchens, gazing lovingly at a pineapple.

Blaise, who was one of the unhealthiest people Theodore had ever met in his life, had already eaten a whole pineapple, and was contemplating what to do with the second one. Then he picked the pineapple up and started playing catch with it. Evidently eating it straight away like a normal person was beyond Blaise.

Blaise suddenly pretended to chuck the pineapple in Theodore's direction, yelling "Surprise!"

Theodore glared at him in return. "What is wrong with you, Zabini? Has the amount of fruit you've consumed tonight been a shock to your system?"

"I was trying to make you jump," Blaise muttered sulkily. "Hey, Theo, would it still be murder if I yelled surprise?"

"I neither know nor care what you're on about."

"It's like… if I hit you with the pineapple and it killed you, would it still be murder if I'd said surprise first?"

Theodore shook his head in disbelief. "You did _not _just say that."

"I did, actually."

Theodore sighed. "I knew having a mass-murderer for a mother would completely addle your brains one day."


	2. Sunburn

II. Sunburn

Theodore had made up his mind that he was going to kill Blaise. It wasn't as though the thought hadn't often crossed his mind before (it crossed his mind numerous times a week, in fact), but this time was different. This time he really was going to hex Blaise into the middle of next week as soon as he found him.

"Zabini," Theodore snarled upon finding the other boy, who was sprawled out on one of the sofas, which he seemed to be attempting to cover in as much mud as possible. "Why did you not wake me up?"

"Woah, Theo, you really are a vampire," Blaise said with a grin. "You've gone scarlet. You must be allergic to sunlight."

"I'm not allergic to sunlight," Theodore tersely snapped at him. "You let me fall asleep out the garden. In direct sunlight. For over an hour. And you _know _that I burn easily."

Blaise smiled smugly at him in reply. "So? I'm lucky. I'm dark anyway. I don't burn."

"Do you want to test that theory?" Theodore snarled, his hand inching towards his wand.

Blaise at least had the sense to stop laughing.


	3. Illegal

III. Illegal

Blaise was grinning inanely again. This was nothing unusual in itself, but it seemed rather incongruous among the students that filled the Slytherin common room, all of whom looked somewhere between sickened and shocked as they stared blankly at Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four.

"No clubs allowed?" Cassius Warrington said, looking absolutely disgusted. "That's idiotic. How are we meant to play Quidditch now?"

Mutterings of this sort were going on all around them, and everyone looked horrified – except for Theodore, who felt rather bored, and Blaise, who was still smirking stupidly.

"We're illegal," Blaise said at last.

Theodore sighed. "Do I even want to be able to understand you?"

"We're illegal," Blaise repeated. "This decree says that any gathering of three or more students is now prohibited. So all of us standing together like this is illegal. And eating in the Great Hall together at mealtimes is illegal. And going to the library to study in bigger groups is illegal. And having all five of us sleeping in the dormitory is illegal – shall we get rid of Crabbe and Goyle? They snore."

Theodore sighed. "Thank you very much for pointing out the obvious, Zabini, but for some reason I don't think that's what Professor Umbridge was referring to when she wrote this."

Blaise, unsurprisingly, wasn't listening to a word Theodore was saying. "Theo, this decree is brilliant. It means that classes are illegal – and if classes are illegal then that means I don't need to worry about not having done my Ancient Runes homework because the class is illegal anyway, so we shan't need to go to it at all."

Unfortunately for Blaise, Professor Babbling did not accept this as a valid excuse.


	4. Blonde

IV. Blonde

"What in the name of Merlin's sparkly purple hat have you done this time?"

Pansy spun round and shot Blaise a venomous look. He was lounging on the sofa nearest to the common room fireplace. An Ancient Runes essay lay on the floor next to him – an essay that he'd quite obviously 'borrowed' from Nott.

"Like you can say anything, Zabini. I know for a fact you've been borrowing Daphne's makeup."

"I suit having kohl around my eyes," Blaise drawled in reply. "You, however, don't suit blonde hair. You're too dark. You can't use hair lightening potions on black hair and expect it not to look ridiculous – especially seeing as you haven't charmed your eyebrows lighter."

Pansy concentrated all her attention into shooting Blaise the most withering look she could muster. This didn't have remotely the effect she wanted; he started to laugh outright.

"You look even more like a pug with that expression," he chocked out. "Black hair or blonde hair, you're still pug-like; there's no way Malfoy's ever going to profess his undying love for you, not with a face like that."

"Oh what do you know, Zabini? You can't even write a half decent Runes essay without copying Nott's work; you're plainly an idiot, and I'm not going to waste time listening to you."

With that she flounced off to her dormitory. There was no way she was going to cry in front of Zabini. What did he know anyway? She had changed her hair because she wanted to. Really. It had nothing to do with Malfoy. Absolutely nothing at all.


	5. Thoughtless

V. Thoughtless

"I see you're going home for the holidays, _Millie_," Pansy said. Her voice was sickeningly sweet and she made sure to emphasise the nickname that Millicent so hated. Pansy had been utterly vile to Millicent since part way through third year, which was when the other Slytherins had finally figured out that Millicent wasn't a pureblood.

"Yes. What's it to you?" Millicent forced herself to look up from the book she was reading; just because Pansy was fantastically rude, that didn't mean she was going to sink to the other girl's level.

"Well it's just that I'm so proud of you," Pansy replied. "You've got enough brains to figure out that there's no chance of you getting a boy to go to the Yule Ball with you and that going home is the only way to save face."

Millicent gritted her teeth and reminded herself that she would _not _sink to Pansy's level – at least out loud.

"I'm not interested in balls. Unlike you, Parkinson, I don't need to rely on men to make something of myself." Pansy glared at her. Daphne Greengrass, Sophie Roper and Perimede Runcorn all followed suit. Typical drones; Tracey was the only other Slytherin girl with a brain – and the only one brave enough to refuse to go to the Yule Ball.

"And not that it's any of your business, but I have other reasons for going home now."

"And what are those?"

"My grandmother's dead," Millicent said shortly. "I've got to go to her funeral."

"A funeral? For a muggle?" Pansy wrinkled her nose. "Have you no shame? What sort of a witch are you?"

"You are the most thoughtless person I have ever met," Millicent snarled, turning away from them.

"What's her problem?" Sophie stage-whispered to Pansy. "It's only a muggle."

This was why Millicent wanted to leave as soon as possible; another week around these girls and she'd end up in Azkaban.


	6. Let Sleeping Dragons Lie

Let Sleeping Dragons Lie

Theodore despises working in the library. The bookcases tower right up to the ceiling, a man-made forest full of things that one could never imagine, never even dream of. He has always been hungry for knowledge and knows that he should revel in having access to one of the best-stocked libraries in the wizarding world, but Theodore can't bring himself to linger there for a moment longer than is absolutely necessary.

The smell of ancient parchment is enough to make him feel physically sick. It doesn't matter to him what the contents of a particular book are: charms, hexes, it makes no difference. Every book there carries with it the smell of death that lingers around the old tomes in his father's library, books that Theodore had been forced to read as a young boy.

The dusty scent of old parchment is linked in Theodore's mind to things that should never be thought of, let alone written down. These books whisper such secrets in his ear as how to shatter minds, break bodies, and leave death in one's wake without any risk whatsoever of getting caught. He hates these books, hates how their words creep inside him and stir up the dragons that sleep in the darkest corners of his mind. He perceives these thoughts as dragons because that is exactly what they are like: they hanker after wealth, after fame, after blood. It is only when these dragon-thoughts are awakened by the scent of old parchment and the promise of ancient, powerful magic that Theodore cannot deny that he has become just like his father, just as power hungry, just as bloodthirsty, just as twisted.

This is why Theodore works anywhere other than in libraries. He curls up in remote corners of the dungeons, hides himself away in rooms that are adorned by cobwebs and damp, where it is too wet for the dust of ages to gather and the reek of old parchment to creep under his skin. His books are always new, the only notes in the margins written in his own, spidery hand. Sometimes, though, without realising what he has done, Theodore scrawls his thoughts onto the page for all to see: the parchment is ripped by a dragon's poisonous talons.

Theodore would rather not disturb these sleeping dragons; if they lie quiet then he can continue to pretend to himself that he only wants knowledge for his own sake, just like a dragon hoards gold for no reason other than its beauty; that he does not wish for the power to shatter minds and break bodies, to drive men to the depths of torment and madness without ever uttering a single word; that he is never, ever going to end up like his father.

Theodore became his father a long time ago.


End file.
